World of Warcraft®

Wattz had been searching around Silvermoon for the last two days, and the trip out to the office in Ghostlands had proved a failure to find him as well. The office was completely torn apart.

"Ugh, this cant be good" he thought.

He looked around the shambled room, but found no trace of anybody else being there.

"Well, what in the Fel happened here, look like one heck of a fight broke out here, but seems like he was alone."

Then he looked down and seen the freshly opened empty bottles laying upon the floor.

"Looks like somebody had wee bit of a temper tantrum" he mumbled to himself.

So Wattz hopped into his buggy and headed to Undercity. He got into the elevator and there he was.

"Holy !@#$ Boss! where ya been? I've been looking around fer ya fer two days! I know i screwed up, You's aint pissed at me is ya?

Fastice assured him that he was not and proceeded to fill him in on the story. The elevator came to suddenly stop and the two stepped out.

"Well I'm glad i still got a job Boss, but uh, i gotta tell yas something...the last check you gave me bounced" he paused for a moment..

"Is this not a good time?"

((typical Goblin <.<;))

((We have our priorities!))

[ Welcome to the forums, Eats!!! <3 -Bourbon and hook...ahs everywhere- ]

"No, no, it's not, Wattz."

He sighed, walking through the Undercity with the goblin at his side. "Troubling times ahead for Blackblade Security, I'm afraid. That library job was our main source of income. Unless we can find another one here, and soon, we might have to close the doors. Not to mention the cost to repair the...well..."

He shut up then, moving through the rogue's quarters. Just, then an undead rounded the corner with a large mastiff hound in tow. "Aelerath. You made it."

"Sure did, bossman. Green dude." The undead nods in Wattz' general direction. "So what's this you need the mutt and I to do? Spy on some nightly blood, er somethin?"

The death knight couldn't help it. In light of everything, he laughed. "No. Trenetir Moradinel. By day, he exports cloth and textiles out to Booty Bay and Kalimdor, to my knowledge. I need to know what this false knight gets in to when the sun goes down. His under the table dealings, his thefts, anything illegitimate on his resume, I need to know of. This guy could be our ticket to getting this contract back. If this doesn't work..."

He looks between Aelerath and Wattz, expectantly. A grim sigh escaped his lips, as he seemed to have trouble uttering the words. "This job might be our last, guys. Let's make it count."

That could not have gone off more perfectly.

The tome was recovered, The false knight was under suspicion, Uros Wormwalker was captured, and Blackblade security will soon be able to collect the bounty on the scumbag, and repair the damage to the base, and then some. It was shaping up to be a good day.

With the undead-sans-jaw hoisted over the back of his now fully recovered dreadsteed, Fastice made his way back to the headquarters in the ghostlands, a goofy grin on his mouth the whole way. Upon arrival, he dragged the undead to the holding cells, locking him up and throwing a dead rat in the cage. Seemed like that's what he'd eat, anyway. He sauntered upstairs, jolly with glee, and brought a piece of parchment and a quill to his fireplace mantle, writing out a letter to the Dread Guard of the Undercity.

To Whom it may concern,

Rest assured the Criminal Wormwalker is in good hands here at Blackblade Security. I am holding him for your convenience, that you might bring along an envoy to pick him up, allowing him to answer for his crimes.

I will have it known to you, however, that the magistrate of Silvermoon will likely want him exposed within the court of the sun, that they may choose an appropriate punishment. I will allow you to make that decision.

I will expect an envoy within the week, to pick up the criminal, and drop off my bounty of Two thousand gold at their discretion.

Sincerely,

Ser Fastice Blackblade
May we never falter.

He sealed the letter in an envelope, and sealed the envelope with Blackblade Security's own wax seal. He called his winged dreadsteed to him, attached the letter to the skeletal bird, and sent it on its' way to the undercity. Now on to his next dillema.

How in the world was he supposed to question something without a lower jaw?